Here, at the crossroads Between what we were, what we are now And what we will come to be. ‘I know what you’re thinking, my friend. I know you don’t understand.’ The Emperor’s voice was muffled by the heavy cell door. Plunged into pitch darkness with his head leaning against the cold metal, Dun-Cadal could hear his ruler’s wheezing breath. The general was sitting on the damp earth, mute with rage. His fingers slowly dug furrows in the ground, as an outlet for his anger. ‘But don’t judge me too quickly,’ the Emperor continued. ‘This is what it’s like, the burden of power, it’s a curse. Sometimes, in order to preserve the integrity of my Empire I must wound someone close to me . . . Don’t judge me for it.’ He waited but Dun-Cadal did not speak. ‘I had to protect you. I had to lock you up, and keep you here for as long as takes for you to regain your calm, your reason. Try to understand . . .’ There was no answer to his plea. So the Emperor continued to speak.
